


Dinner for Two

by plinys



Series: ABC Fic Challenge [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re cooking,” Wanda repeats, this time for clarity, her features forming a slight look of confusion, “even though you don’t eat?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and written on mobile cause my internet connection is shit, but I have an abc fic challenge to complete, so here we go. This week is N for Noodles

The first time it happens she thinks nothing of it.

Wanda’s ready to keel over after a work out with Natasha, and the plate of fruit beside her water bottle is a welcome snack. One that she thanks Vision for bringing to her, seconds before stuffing and orange slice between her teeth.

In all honestly, she doesn’t think much of it the next few times either.

The bag of popcorn that appears right within arms reach as she’s watching the evening news, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut just the way she likes it offered up for lunch, the kiwi flavored ice cream on a warm summer day - none of it seems any bit out of the ordinary.

Sure, it was different than anything she had been used to before, but when her previous meals had been few and far between, a sudden easy access to food was something Wanda couldn’t help but take advantage of.

That was before she realized that she might have actually been _taking advantage_ of somebody without even noticing. (It was only after a less than subtle comment from Sam that she was able to put two and two together, not that she was even intending on informing him of that.)

Ergo why she is currently standing outside the kitchen of the Avengers training facility watching with keen eyes a certain synthezoid moves around the kitchen as easily as if it were one of their workout rooms. A cool efficiency that showed one at who knows their way around the place.

“You’re cooking,” Wanda asks, calling his attention to her at the words.

It’s very subtle, but she could swear for a second she sees his shoulders tense, before he turns around to greet her, “Ah yes, I am.”

“You’re cooking,” Wanda repeats, this time for clarity, her features forming a slight look of confusion, “even though you don’t eat?”

His face, though red from the tone of his synthetic skin, seems to color ever so slightly. An absurd notion really, but one she witnesses nevertheless. And the answer to her question, only comes after a rather long pause, “I am.”

“That is not the answer I was hoping for,” she admits reluctantly.

“I watched a cooking channel,” Vision offers, and without even using her powers she can tell that he’s not telling her the whole truth, it’s in the way he subtly moves, hands fluttering, even though they need not move about, “and wanted to try out the recipe.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” she replies, bringing her fingers up to tap her head in a silent reminder. Truthfully, she didn’t even have to use her powers to deduce the truth about what’s going on here, not when a second later he looks shamefaced.

It almost makes Wanda want to wipe this whole conversation from their memories, if only so she wouldn’t have to see him make that face ever again.

“I read an article on the internet, that humans, who were upset or stressed needed to eat more than the average person does,” Vision admits this time, “and you already eat so little.”

“I’m used to not having much, sometime I forget we have a kitchen,” and other times, she purposely doesn’t, the pain of hunger on lonely nights could serve as a reminder of the times she’d lost.

“If you would like I’ll stop cooking for you,” he offers, “though I have begun to enjoy it.”

“No, it’s - I don’t mind. Actually, it’s rather nice knowing somebody cares.”

She’s certain that her face is bright red as the words leave her lips, so quickly she moves her gaze away. At least, if she busies herself with looking at the boxes of noodles and other ingredients he has scattered about she can make sure he won’t see the flush she can feel creeping up her neck.

It was a weird sort of feeling, one she had been thinking about a lot lately. She’d never really had a chance to experience this sort of thing before, growing up in Sokovia hadn’t given her many opportunities for _flirting_ or _crushes_ and since then life had been complicated to say the least. Wanda spent the vast majority of her time around her fellow Avengers, so it wasn’t too surprising that she would begin to feel something for one of them.

“The others care about you too,” Vision insists, “Agent Romanoff helps you with your training, and Captain Rogers arranges the group movie nights which I know you enjoy, and-”

“But not like you,” Wanda cuts him off, “none of them are quite like you.”

“I believe that I should take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.”

There’s a moment where she worries that she might have been too bold, she’s never been good at reading these sorts of scenarios without her powers, but a second later his face morphs into a grin that she cannot help herself from mirroring.

“Then, Miss Maximoff, would you be interested in joining me for dinner? It’s nearly finished.”

“The pleasure would be all mine,” she replies, with a small laugh, “literally, I suppose, since you cannot eat.”

“Ah, it’s actually more that I don’t _need_ to, my body regenerates on it’s own without substance,” Vision explains, “I suppose I technically _could_ eat, but that seems rather wasteful.”

“Perhaps next time you feel inclined to cook, we could invite the whole team to join us then,” Wanda proposes, perching on the edge of the counter, in order to watch as Vision begins to move about the kitchen again, stirring the pasta with a practiced familiarity.

“Should I not this time?”

“Mhmm, probably not,” she replies, after a pause in which she pretended to think about the answer.

“May I ask why not?”

“Because then this wouldn’t be a date.”

This time she’s watching him close enough to see the slightly movement, it’s not exactly tensing up, more like being caught surprised. The spoon in his hand clatters against the pan for a brief second following her words, and he seems to take a long moment before replying.

“Yes, I suppose it would be best not to invite them, since we are on a date?”

“Exactly.”

  
  
  



End file.
